Martin and Louisa: The AU Stories
by Ponella
Summary: My take on what would have happened if Martin and Louisa were in university together, and there was no Edith or Danny to ruin things. Chapter four is up! Now rated T to be on the safe side... And please, no flaming.
1. Talking

**A/N: **A question has been on my mind for a long time now: "What if Martin and Louisa had first met while in college, and there was no Danny or Edith to screw things up?". I have henceforth decided to answer this question myself, because it was my idea in the first place and I've already got my brain in gear to write some Doc Martin fanfiction. Me and my mum are both big fans of the show (we have all 4 series on DVD), and although we don't know anything about what's going to happen in series 5, we're looking forward to it and I, personally, can't wait to find out the name of the baby! But this is my interpretation of what would have happened if the two characters had met while they both still had some learning to do. This isn't my first time writing a Doc Martin fanfiction (more like second or third) but it'll probably be the first of mine to actually be posted and surely won't be the last.

**Chapter One – Talking**

Louisa Glasson slammed her hand down on the snooze button of her alarm clock. She'd worked very hard to get where she was today – and she was being defeated by early mornings. Where she was today was Oxford University, studying to be a teacher. She loved children, and it had been her lifelong ambition to be able to teach them. She fully immersed herself in her chosen career path, as well as finding time to tutor the less able students, which meant the only time she had to herself was a little in the morning and a little at night, but she found it a worthwhile vocation if it meant she got to work with kids.

She had no boyfriend to speak of, as all the boys were far too pushy about wanting the position and they didn't seem to understand that she'd get one when she was ready – or if the right man suddenly presented himself. So far the only man she had acknowledged was a trainee doctor, a man called Martin Ellingham, and that was only because he hadn't bothered to acknowledge her first. She imagined he was well-off, if his snooty air was anything to go by, but she also imagined it was his parents' money that had got him into Oxford. Not that she minded; there would always be a need for doctors in the world, and this one seemed to know his stuff.

He was around the same age as her, with startling blue eyes, and blond hair in a neat crew cut. Nothing about him was ever out of place, and he was always on time for everything – while she was a mess and a half, and seemed to be late for everything. As she walked through the campus one morning, arms heavily laden with books, she accidentally dropped one, and Ellingham just happened to be nearby and saw her struggling to pick it up.

"Here." she hadn't even noticed him walk up to her, but before she knew it he'd picked up the book and handed it to her, "You shouldn't be carrying all those books by yourself, you know. If you keep doing this, your arms will be weaker in the long-term due to nerve damage."

"Thankyou, _Doctor_, I do realize that. But if you're offering to help, you'd better take some." and she handed half the pile over to him before he had a chance to protest. They walked in a companionable silence, and all at once Louisa was discovering that Martin wasn't snooty at all – very shy, a bit awkward, very proud of his profession, but he obviously hadn't had many friends in life and had engrossed himself in his work as she in hers. She could sense he was troubled, but knew it wasn't about her – she realized that if he had someone to talk to, he wouldn't be such an arse to everyone else. But here he was – doing the gentlemanly thing and helping her with her books, not daring to look at her like it was a sin. She found this side of him rather adorable, and wondered why he didn't show it more often. But she knew he'd become a complete recluse again once he was done helping her, so she enjoyed it while it lasted. However, she decided to bite the bullet and ask, "Martin, what is it with you?"

He was so surprised to hear her asking a question that he nearly dropped the books, and she giggled quietly to herself. "W-what do you mean?"

"Oh, like you don't know! You're a complete hermit, don't engage in any social functions – not that I blame you, some of them are a bit over the top – and yet you'll make a fantastic Doctor, and you don't ever gloat about it, like you don't know how good you really are. And here you are, blushing like you've been caught with your trousers down!" her words only made him blush more, and the books he'd been holding for her had finally fallen from his arms.

Caught with his trousers down? He felt like he might as well have been, that it would have even been easier for all concerned if he _had_ been caught with his trousers down. It didn't register with him that he'd dropped the books, as he was still in shock from Louisa's outburst. He had to admit she was beautiful, and it was to first thing he'd noticed about her – along with her brilliant mind and her passion for helping children. He had come to admire her in a sense, but he would never admit it if he could help it. He was astounded by the way he found himself just trying to catch a glimpse of her when she wasn't looking, or trying to start a conversation with her when he knew it would end in an argument. These were the things that kept him going, although he knew he'd never get the chance to tell her that the first time he'd fallen in love was with her, because she wouldn't reciprocate his feelings – they were just friends, nothing more. But her outburst had startled him, and he then realized that perhaps she cared about him as more than a friend, that maybe she _did _reciprocate some of his feelings.

"Uh… are you sure we should be talking about any of this – out here, that is."

She didn't quite get the meaning of his words until she noticed the cold – at the end of April the temperature had decided to take a turn for the worst, and now it was over halfway through May and the chill hadn't disappeared. She shivered, as did he, both of them finally remembering that he'd dropped the books she'd asked him to hold. As they bent to pick them up, their hands met over a theory guide, their eyes following suite.

"Martin…"

"Yes?"

"I'm sure we could talk some more if I called in sick."

"But you're not sick Louisa, that would be lying!" he looked mortified.

"Oh, I'm owed some sick days anyhow, and I can be absent once in a while – it's just a day. And I really think we need to talk, don't you?"

He couldn't disagree with her logic – they _did _need to talk, and it would be better if they could do it as soon as possible.

"I'm sure I can ask a _doctor _for a second opinion, seeing as I'm going to be talking to one all day." that had sealed the deal, and once they made it to her student flat, she called in sick and they had the whole day to talk.

He noticed it was tasteful and homely, unlike some of the other flats on campus, and he realized that it was probably her influence. It felt welcoming; something he hadn't been around in a long time.

She noticed that he looked uncomfortable, and she knew it must be because he wasn't used to being anywhere other than his own space, "If you want, we can treat each other as professionals – this doesn't have to be anything emotional."

He realized that she was trying to make it easier for him, help him get more used to his surroundings by focusing on his comfort zones. "I don't want to feel like you're walking on eggshells, Louisa, and that's exactly what it feels like. I came here to talk, and that's what I'm going to do – it's probably time to get it all out in the open, anyhow."

"What do you mean, Martin?" she was giving him her full and undivided attention now.

So he started speaking, "I mean I want to get it out in the open… _all_ of it. Mine wasn't the happiest childhood – in fact, the only happiness I could find was when I was sent to my aunt's in the summers. Even that was stopped eventually, and I had to assume it was my fault – that I was being punished by having the only comfort in my life taken away. My parents weren't even the nicest of people when it came to their son – sometimes I think they'dve been happier if I'd never come along in the first place, but to dwell on more than one depressing thing at a time is just that – _depressing_. Along with horrid parents who sent me to boarding school, the worst didn't end there. I was bullied in school – for my big ears, for my intelligence, and sometimes I wonder if they just bullied me because they thought I was an easy target." she remembered that even now he was ridiculed by the other students, and he just seemed to brush it off, but really it stayed and festered in his mind. He continued, "When I was old enough to have my own life, I jumped at it the first chance I got. Being a doctor is the only thing I'm good at – mainly vascular surgery, but it's something I'm good at and I don't get teased for it because I can use my knowledge to save lives. I guess… I shut everyone out to save myself the trouble of being betrayed."

Louisa listened to him intently, and realized that deep down, he was a very insecure person, and found it hard to trust new people because he didn't want the hurt that the prospect carried. With how he'd been treated throughout his life, it was no wonder he didn't see just how good he was.

She put a hand to his face, but he flinched away from it, obviously embarrassed. She now forced him to look her in the eye, "Martin Ellingham, there is no doubt in my mind that you will make a brilliant doctor; knowing you you'll strive to be the best in your field when you've already achieved this, because you don't think you'll ever be good enough. Well I'm sorry, but everyone deserves a chance, and everyone deserves to 'come along' as you so put it, you even moreso because you've lived this lie all your life, this lie that maybe you aren't good enough. I know that even now you're the smartest man I know, and surely the best doctor. You don't have a bedside manner, but you do take your patients into account and put their lives above your own, even if you don't particularly like the patients you have to deal with. You appear, at times, unfeeling and unapproachable, and yet you are a very caring person. So stop doubting yourself – you have no need to."

He just sat there, blushing and looking down to his pristine polished shoes – she was sure if his seat had an eject button, he'd certainly push it.

"And you can stop looking down at you feet like that Martin Ellingham, you've no need to feel embarrassed because what I say is true." she waited for a reaction, and upon getting none moved to leave, "I can see tonight was a lost cause–"

"Wait!" he yelled, grabbing her arm.

"What is it?"

"Why do you…" she could see his internal conflict clearly written on his face.

"Why do I what?"

"Why do you… care?"

She paused at this. Why _did_ she care?

"I don't know Martin, it's called _being human_. We care about each other in the human race, whether you like it or not."

He turned quiet, and she then remembered that nobody had truly cared for him other than his aunt, and he was probably very distrusting if anyone took any notice of him other than the usual jibes he got from the people who, unfortunately, were probably his future colleagues. She scolded herself for forgetting is distrustful nature, and he noticed.

"Louisa, what's wrong?"

"Nothing… just _you_. Nobody deserves what you had to live through, and… I don't really know where we're taking this, we've talked about as much as I can handle."

"Let's not talk then." he said, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her – then she thought '_Why would I want him to kiss me?_'

"I know what you're thinking." he told her, "You're thinking 'why would you want me to kiss you', your blush tells me that enough."

Her blush deepened, "Are you psychic?"

"That depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Would you like me to kiss you?"

'_Go for it_' her mind told her, and she pulled him in for a kiss.

As the only sensible male on campus, Martin Ellingham had a certain reputation to uphold; The one who never went to parties, never touched a drop of alcohol and had never kissed a girl. Chris Parsons, a fellow medical student, said that it made him 'a good catch' but he had told him it was just how he was and he wasn't looking for a girlfriend. Of course, that hadn't stop Chris from matchmaking; all of the 17 applicants that had so far applied in the last year had been politely declined and apologized to for his friend's lax morals. Being with Louisa made him happy; she was the only woman who Chris hadn't tried to set him up with yet, and she treated him as an equal and a friend instead of just 'the opposite species' or 'a good catch'. For this reason he had decided, when her flushed face confirmed his theories, to ask her for a kiss. She admired him for his [sometimes brutal] honesty instead of berating him about it, although it didn't mean they didn't get into arguments, mostly over the smallest things; Chris had once compared them to an old married couple, and Martin had stated that they were neither old, married nor a couple.

The kiss ended as soon as it started, Louisa mumbling a quick apology, and he shook his head at her, "Don't you remember that I asked you for a kiss?"

"Yes, but…"

"There's no buts about it; I love you." the words had tumbled out before he could stop them, and now he was the one blushing.

"Martin, you can't possibly know that."

"I know enough to know that I can't live without you." he couldn't stop now; his mouth had a mind of its own.

He was worried that she would respond badly, and was pleasantly surprised when she gave him a smile and said, "I feel the same – about you, obviously, not about me…"

He put a hand to her cheek and said, "No more talking," and resumed their kiss.

**A/N: **Not bad for a first chapter, I think. I know I'm no good at portraying a young Martin and Louisa, just please don't bitch about it peeps. And if you're a saddo who reviews anonymously to completely flame my work (I've been getting allot of those lately), you can just sod off, I've no time for time wasters and if you have any good points to put across they will be duly noted. If you're a nice anonymous reviewer who has no reason to flame and wont flame, I sincerely hope you haven't been put of by my hatred of anonymous flamers; it does not pertain to all anonymous reviewers.

I've just checked and this chapter was started on the 20th of May… just saying. I'm very susceptible to writers block so don't be surprised if I sometimes take a long time to put up another chapter.


	2. Shattered

**A/N:** Wow, a second chapter already…? I must be on a roll otherwise I wouldn't dare to write some more. This chapter is set at a different time; more specifically, some time after Martin and Louisa have finished with their studies, and Martin has an important question to ask Terry… (Terry is Louisa's dad, btw, if you're not familiar with him.) The second part of this chapter (which will still be in this chapter) contains the realization of Martin's haemophobia, because I feel like killing two birds with one stone… The first part of this chapter was created in a maths lesson, because I'm a chronic procrastinator and I had nothing else to do. (Seriously, I'd finished the test in the maths lesson before.)

**Chapter Two - Shattered**

Doctor Martin Ellingham was already well accomplished for a 29-year-old. He was a no-nonsense type who just got on with his job with perfect precision, never once complaining – he had someone to go home to, his partner Louisa, who would listen to all his frustrations of the day and try to see his side of things, which she'd gotten better at lately.

Whilst he was okay with things as they were, he couldn't help but yearn for more in their relationship; unfortunately he wasn't the best when it came to talking about emotional and personal things, and the subtle hints he'd been dropping had failed to be of any use.

He decided he'd go see her dad to ask for his permission; Terry Glasson wasn't a good man by trade, but he was Louisa's father and was [surprisingly] the only one of two parents who hadn't deserted her.

He'd told Louisa that the reason he was going into London was a surprise, and it certainly was; her father had said yes.

"There aren't many blokes around these days who'll look after a girl and provide for her," he'd said, "Rest assured, you have my blessing." Or it was the gist of what he said - the man didn't go into lengthy explanations about it.

Martin couldn't help but feel pride at the fact that he was thought good enough for the man's daughter – he was worried that he wasn't. Next on his list of things to do was purchasing an engagement ring, but he didn't need to – he had his grandmother's ring that auntie Joan had given him on his last visit to Cornwall. Joan was much more of a mother than his own had been; He'd told her about his intentions with Louisa, and she'd just told him something like 'Don't count your chickens' but was supportive of him anyway. What was more motherly than that? When he'd told his own mother [and father], they simply waved it off as a passing fancy and said that his work was his only love; which wasn't true, considering he now had another.

And that was why he was sitting in his car, wondering how to propose to her. A restaurant? No, that was meant to ply her if he'd done something wrong where she couldn't cause a scene, she knew. A picnic? He hated the thought of sitting down in a damp patch of grass and eating from a wicker basket, which she also knew, but she'd like that he was making an effort. Which was exactly what he was making, sharing a holiday with her in her home village of Portwenn.

"Ooh, a picnic!" her surprised tone mixed well with her Cornish accent, he surmised. She turned to him and smiled, "Did you do this for me?"

"Who else do you think did it?" later he'd say that he'd had some help from Joan, but for the time being he was happy with the lie.

They ate and conversed, Louisa noticing that Martin had chose to leave the big sandwich at the bottom alone; it was big because it had big un-sandwichey lump protruding in the middle of it.

"Martin?"

"Huh? Oh, that, just look inside."

As she lifted away the bread she found a little ring box, "I'll give you points for originality."

"Open it." he persisted, turning from the sea to see he reaction.

"Oh Martin, it's beautiful… but do you really want to marry me?"

"I think I should be the one to ask that if you say yes. And yes, I do want to marry you; that was my grandmother's ring, I'd give it to nobody else."

"Then… yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I will marry you!"

A while later, she'd say in disbelief, "Mrs Louisa Ellingham." and then she would doze off in her fiancée's arms.

* * *

><p>35-year-old Martin Ellingham had never felt so bereft; standing over the operating table was the only place where he felt in control, and that control was shattered by the mere sight of blood.<p>

He'd come home that evening into his wife's waiting arms, glad to have at least one sympathetic soul with him that day. She was, as always, earlier than he at getting home – school ended at 3:25, so she was able to get home just in time to see his sour face and hear his incessant whinging, which she would comment on if need be. His job had taken away his youth (or what little youth he had), such was matters of life or death, but Louisa still loved him and comforted him nonetheless. When he'd told her of his fear of blood, of the sight and smell of it, she just, unlike his colleagues, cuddled him and told him his reaction was perfectly normal when he'd been working in bloody conditions for so many years, but it left him with no idea of what to do with himself; he couldn't go back to surgery and he couldn't lounge around the flat all day as it was already driving him crazy.

"Why don't you become a GP? You're good at all things medical besides surgery, and you won't have to deal with blood as much." she told him one morning whilst getting ready for work; how he envied her.

"But it's so…"

"Degrading? It wont be if you're good at it."

She'd already took the initiative and searched for a GP position for a qualified Doctor, much to his chagrin, "There's a position open in Portwenn for a GP – old Doc Sim died and there's nobody to take his place. It'll be closer to home for me and a place where nobody knows of your phobia for you." she told him, "Just think about it."

He did think about it; His aunt lived in Portwenn, and so did people Louisa knew from her childhood, and it would be good if they didn't move to unfamiliar settings.

And then he'd been called up because Louisa had fainted at the school, and he'd had to class her as anaemic – but he realized that, apart from it being hereditary, something else must be causing it.

So he confronted her on the drive home, asking her if she'd been eating at mealtimes or if she was doing too much, and she just blushed.

"Martin… I'm pregnant."

And his whole world was shattered again, but all the shards flew back into place just as quickly, "How can you know?"

"Well, morning sickness is a good indicator, and the passing out just told me what I already knew; I'm having a baby." she huffed, unhappy with the way he'd reacted. She hadn't expected him to pull her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be alright (what with him driving), but she'd expected something more. "So, Martin, what are we going to do?" she added with venom; she had never hated Martin before, but knew she could.

"We're moving to Portwenn."

She sat in the passenger seat, mouth hanging open.

"London is hardly the place to raise a child; not with all the crime and pollution. And I think I could get used to being a village GP if it meant you and the baby were with me."

She was in shock, "Am I hearing you correctly?"

He took her seriously for a moment, "If you're not I'm sure I can fix that."

So she was going to be in Portwenn with Martin and the baby in the following months; she couldn't help but feel giddy about it, "Thankyou."

"For what?" he asked, eyes still on the road.

"For not going overboard, and for putting our baby first."

As they drove through heavy rain, a thought whistled through both their minds – _Our Baby_.

**A/N: **I don't know if I'm going to make a third chapter or not… it really depends on the reception this chapter gets. Although I'll probably end up writing it anyway.

It's been raining allot yesterday and the day before, so I thought I'd make it rain in the end… surprisingly no rain today. What happened? It's now the weekend (well, Friday, but close enough) so I'll have two whole days to write you lot a lovely third chapter, in between seeing if my computer is still working (I really only use my netbook now so my old comp has been left in the lurch) and general recouperating from school. I may not get it done XD

I forgot to be ecstatic about Louisa's pregnancy. Well I am, and I can't help but love writing pregnancy :D (I'm squeeing in my head really, peeps.)


	3. Something's Wrong

**A/N:** here's chapter three… which'll probably start with Martin and Louisa's move to Portwenn, while Louisa is still pregnant – around 5 months, I think. And it will probably end in the same timeframe, so no more skipping 6 years ahead… although I can't make any promises.

**Chapter Three – Something's Wrong**

Doctor Martin Ellingham, GP of Portwenn, was 36 today. And moving house.

"Why'd we have to do it on your birthday?" his wife, Louisa, asked.

"Not really a fan of birthdays. Oversized, tacky and meaningless object are passed around and then everyone stuffs their faces with empty calories. What's the point in that?"

"Oh, you old grump!" she exclaimed, "Look, why don't we have a family party? Just you, me and your Aunt Joan."

The idea did sound appealing. He hadn't seen Joan in a long time, and it would be nice to get reacquainted.

"And you said it yourself; you haven't seen her in a while."

"Why do I keep getting a feeling that you're a mind reader?" he asked her.

"I just know you so well." she said brightly, busying herself with unpacking.

"I think I know you well enough too; just go put your feet up for once, I'll unpack all our things."

"Oh, you're a real sweetheart, you know that?"

He blushed – after so many years with Louisa, she still made him feel like a little schoolboy who'd gotten his first kiss; which, in all reality, was partially true.

"Do you remember our first kiss?" he asked, "In university?" he first unpacked their photographs; first was of their picnic up on the moor, the day he'd proposed to her.

"You were so forward – it's a shock even now when you kiss me and run off like you've done something unforgivable." she laughed, "And when you proposed, I thought you'd gone a bit bodmin."

"Why would you think that?"

"We were having a picnic on Bodmin moor."

"Ah yes – I suppose me having a picnic is a bit unlikely when you think about it." he said, revelling in the memories; the surprisingly dry grass against his feet, Louisa's face at the sight of his surprise, it had all been worth it in the end. He looked over to her – she was practically glowing with health, still as vibrant as ever, a hand resting over her pregnant belly. He was going to be a father, and her a mother. He felt a surge of pride, possibly bigger than the pride he'd felt on their wedding day.

* * *

><p>(FLASHBACK)<p>

She was standing there, looking immaculate in a simple white silk dress; it moulded to her frame perfectly and flared out at the bottom for an angelic effect. He smiled when he remembered that he was the only person who was going to see what was _under_ the dress, but he loved the dress all the same.

The traditional wedding march started up, and the angelic affect tripled around her as she walked. They had both decided to keep it a family affair; His parents had not wished to be there, and even if they had he would have still invited Joan. Louisa's father had come up from London for the occasion; her mother was nowhere to be seen, and neither of them had any siblings or estranged relatives that they could invite.

They said their vows, and at last the 'kiss the bride' moment arrived. He'd later admit that he'd been worrying about this one moment for months, but all his worry was unnecessary when it came down to it. They kissed, and vaguely heard his aunt cheer as the world around them faded into obscurity.

He had done it – he had made his partner his wife, _Mrs Louisa Ellingham_. Later on in the day, he noticed she had something on her mind.

"Martin, what do you think about starting a family?" she saw his startled expression and backtracked, "I mean not now, obviously, but sometime in the future."

He'd never really put much thought in it – he supposed that Louisa wanted to be a mother and would be brilliant at it, but asked, "Do you really think of me as father material?"

"Martin, you're a Doctor who's performed the most complicated surgical procedures; I'm sure you can handle a child."

"No, I mean… oh, forget it."

"No, what were you going to say?" she asked; he didn't remember when they'd started talking in hushed voices.

"Louisa, fathering a child is new ground to me and… I don't even know if I'm up to it. And you'd have to feel bad for the poor sod, having me as a father."

He could already sense he'd spiked outrage within her, "Martin, I'm going to tell you some facts and you're going to listen, seeing as I have to listen to you spouting medical facts half the time. 1. You're a smart man, you can surely help our child with any information it needs or comes across and ensure the best upbringing, 2. No man is born a father but you can learn, and 3. You can't think so negatively about yourself, our child will love both of us equally all the same – unless it gets your big ears."

He chuckled at that point, but every time he thought about it his doubts resurfaced.

(END FLASHBACK)

* * *

><p>He was having no doubts now; their child was going to have him as a father, and he'd try his best to be a good father to he or she from the minute they came into the world. And throughout its' entire life, unlike himself, their child would be <em>loved<em>.

"You're right."

"Hmm, what was that?" she asked.

"I said _you're right_; we should go see Joan, might be nice to do something for my birthday for once."

"Aww, Martin!" she beamed, wrapping her arms around his neck, "Did you change your mind just for me?"

"Something like that." he said, pulling her in for a kiss.

* * *

><p>(1 MONTH LATER)<p>

Doctor Martin Ellingham was old by 36 years and one month, and was getting used to his life stuck in mediocre settings.

"Alright, Mrs Tymphs, what seems to be the problem.

"It's Tommy. Y'see, he says he's got somethin wrong with his throat."

"If he had something wrong with his throat he wouldn't be able to speak."

Tommy Tymphs, a chubby little boy of nine, had a face that became contorted in horror at this moment.

"Right, let's get him on the examination table." the little boy he was currently handling was the fidgety sort, and he seriously hoped that his own child wouldn't be the same.

"Mrs Tymphs, your son is asthmatic." was his subsequent diagnosis.

"Oh no! won't he need an inhaler?" Esmie Tymph's worry for her son was palpable.

"Not necessarily. Your son has very mild asthma, and I'd say with careful monitoring, a healthy diet and plenty of fluids he should be capable of leading a perfectly normal life."

The woman's relief was evident, and as she left the surgery he felt his own surge of relief – the last patient of the day.

"Doc, phonecall for you!" a shout came from the waiting room; Pauline Lamb wasn't the most subtle of receptionists, but she could do her job to an acceptable standard.

"Tell them to come in for a consultation tomorrow, surgery's closed!"

"It's Mrs Ellingham!"

He was momentarily overcome with panic – was there something wrong with the baby? "Put her through!" he clicked the button on the intercom, "Ellingham."

"Hi Martin." she said; she sounded shaky, which wasn't a comforting sign but he was too overworked to notice.

"What is it?" he asked, saying it with more annoyance than he had intended.

"Oh, just wondering when you'll be home."

"I've just finished with the last patient, anything else?" he said, his voice softer.

"Well, it's probably nothing, but…"

"No, what is it?" he asked, not really aware he was leaning forward in his seat.

"…I think somethings wrong with the baby."

**A/N: **I'm a mean person, aren't I? This was how I had originally intended for this chapter to end, so I'm very happy that another ending didn't waft into my head as it does happen to me occasionally. I can't wait to write the next chapter, and I hope you give me your lovely [or not] reviews for this one first. And Mrs Tymphs and her son were my own original creation! It's the first time one of those has actually worked with the story they're in, but there's a first for everything.


	4. Number

**A/N:** I've been racking my brain on what to write in this chapter – y'see, I only thought as far as the 'somethings wrong with the baby' bit and then my mind turned to mush. I've been stuck in a bit of a rut, fanfiction-wise; I only get my magical moments of inspiration when it's time for me to shut my netbook down. Oh, and I have to explain the timeframe of this fic – Martin and Louisa are a bit younger, but everyone else is pretty much the same age as they are in the show. I know, it's weird, but it works for the storyline.

**Chapter Four – Number**

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, I just keep feeling this… dead weight? Martin, I think the baby's dead." he could hear her choke back a sob.

Their baby had died – he couldn't bear to think of it, "Louisa, I'll come to you. Just keep calm and tell me if you've felt the baby move recently."

"No, actually, not since after we moved from London."

His heart sank – what if his baby had died because it was rattled by all the sudden changes? What if he hadn't had his haemophobia scare, their baby wouldn't have died before it was even born?

He sprang out of his chair, barking to his receptionist on his way out, "Pauline, I need you to phone ahead and prepare an emergency ultrasound scan."

Pauline sensed the severity of the situation, and quickly dialled the number.

* * *

><p>As she ran [waddled] up the steep roads of Portwenn, only one thought ran in Louisa's head, like an everlasting mantra – <em>Got to get to Martin, got to get to Martin<em>…

Suddenly she felt a stabbing pain, and as she fell to the cobbled ground everything went dark.

* * *

><p>The onlookers who had been there to see her collapse quickly merged around her in a conglomeration of worry and [mostly] gossip.<p>

"Move back please, police business!" Penhale's eyes widened and removed his phone from the holster, "Oh dear – gotta call the Doc… move back please!"

The crowd quickly dispersed, and Joan Norton's truck could be heard pulling to an abrupt stop, "Louisa! Joe, what's happened?"

"Don't worry, Mrs Norton, just apprehending a potential suspect."

"When she's sprawled across the floor?"

"Well, you never know, it could be a bad reaction to some narcotics or…"

Joan looked at him like he'd gone barmy, "Joe Penhale, she's a pregnant woman! Oh, look… let's get her up, and have you called Martin yet?"

"Just about do that, actually." he said, dialling a number, "Hey Doc, it's Joe here, I'm calling because–" he was taken aback when Joan grabbed the phone off him.

"Martin, Louisa's collapsed on the street! Is it something to do with the baby?"

"_Most probably, she called me a minute ago because of it. Look, I'm coming up, just don't try to move her, and make sure she has a pulse!_"

"Why would we need to do that? Marty!"

There was hesitation on the line, "…_I'm on my way._" and then she heard the phone cut off as he hung up.

* * *

><p>10 seconds later Martin sprinted up to them, medical case in hand, "Right, ah – no time to get her up to the surgery, have to do the examination here. Just – it looks okay to move her, but we need to get her seated. Did she regain consciousness at any time?"<p>

"No Marty, just a few words – she described 'bleeding', but she doesn't look to be."

"Yes, it must mean she listens to me more than I thought – there's a significant abdominal mass separate from the baby, it could be a cause of some internal bleeding."

"Worst case scenario?" Joan asked.

Martin looked upon her with fear in his eyes, "Whatever that thing is could have also caused her uterus to leak, meaning we could lose both of them. Most likely without surgery, Louisa and the baby will die."

"You've got to do something!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" he removed a scalpel from his medical bag, mentally picturing where to make the incision.

"You're going to perform the surgery on her yourself?"

"Doc, are you sure that's okay, with your blood thing…"

"I don't think there's anyone else on this street who can perform the procedure within the given timeframe! So yes, I'm going to be the one doing the surgery, so if you don't mind could you please move out of the way? I need space and complete concentration…"

He grimaced as he saw blood, and pushed his phobia to the back of his mind. "Right – Auntie Joan, there's a clamp and surgical thread in my bag, I'll need the clamp to stop the bleeding and the thread to close the wound – her uterus isn't leaking."

"Oh, Marty…" she handed him a cloth along with the requested implements, "You'll need this to clear up all the blood once you're done."

"Ah, yes, now – quiet, both of you." He found the damaged vessel, quickly tying it off, "We're lucky – just a small gash, she must have torn something; much in the way you can tear a muscle. She wouldn't have know it happened, and the dead weight she felt must have been the collective mass of all the blood." he looked upon his handiwork, "Right, I've done all I can do, now we need to get her to hospital."

* * *

><p>"Martin?"<p>

"Louisa – I'm sure this must be confusing for you. You collapsed in the street and I found that had massive internal haemorrhaging – bleeding – and I had to act."

"You… performed surgery on me?"

"It was the only way to save you and the baby, I didn't have any other choice."

"I'm not mad at you, Martin… quite the contrary, I'm just a bit surprised that you overcame your haemophobia for me."

"I'd do anything for you, Louisa."

"Okay then, tell me how long I've been in the hospital."

"A week."

"A week!"

"You had bouts of consciousness, but not enough to be aware of your surroundings."

"Is the baby still okay?"

"Yes, but I was more worried about you, you had to be given a blood transfusion."

"How's the baby, Martin?"

"Babies. We're having twins. They're fine."

Louisa paused, "We're having twins… and how do you feel about that?"

"I was already used to the idea of one baby; I'm sure I could cope with two if that's what you wanted."

"Yes, Martin, but what do you want?"

"I just want my family. Are you happy with that?"

She sighed, "Yes, Martin, I guess so. When will I be allowed out?"

"You'll need to have one more scan before you can leave, but at home you'll need complete bed-rest – and I won't take no for an answer. You can't go back to work until I'm sure you won't need hospital treatment again any time soon."

"Louisa, you're awake!"

"Oh god… is it visiting hours already?" he pulled a face as Joan and Louisa embraced.

"Yes, Marty, and I'm family. Oh, how are you?"

"Holding, up Joan. You? I'm surprised Martin found out about my problem so quickly when I passed out."

"That was me, I'm afraid – You collapsed outside Mrs Tishell's, Joe was there to see it and I just happened to be on my rounds nearby when it happened."

"Well, thank you, Joan; I'm glad someone was there to make sure Martin didn't do anything stupid." they heard Martin scoff at the other end of the room and they both rolled their eyes.

**A/N: **I was originally thinking that this was only going to be a four chapter fic, but I now have more plans for this fanfic and this was a very short chapter so I feel I've cheated you all. I owe you more! And this update is so late, it might as well not be an update at all. I need to address the issue of Martin and Louisa's parents, write a convincing birth, and a couple of other things, so yeah, there's more to come… I fancy writing some angst. Or could it just be because I'm watching Doctor Who? It's a spooky one, or was when I was little… Quite frankly nothing has been scarier than '_Mars Attacks!_' in my life. Or the Daleks, when they were too scary for me to make one out of cotton wool…

Just to add, I enjoyed writing Joe Penhale. He's just so obliviously… oblivious! It's a wonderful change to what I usually write, as I usually write semi-competent people. Penhale is… demi-competent.


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